A Matter of Hobbits
by Windblown.child
Summary: After the Battle of Five Armies, Bilbo returns to the Shire to live his life. The journey back reveals more about hobbits than Bilbo knew. BB/TO Warning: mpreg
1. A Matter of Heart

Warning: This was a special request from a friend. Turn back now if mpreg isn't your thing.

Needless to say, I do not own anything related to The Hobbit, Lord of The Rings, any of J.R.R. Tolkien's works, or Peter Jackson's versions.

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A Matter of Hobbits

When Bilbo Baggins stepped foot from his snug hobbit hole and placed his hairy feet on the path of adventure, he had no idea what was in store for him. If he did have any inkling where he would be swept off to, perhaps he would never have cheerfully said good morning to a wizard. But the halfling was ignorant of what was to come and chased the band of dwarves down instead of letting them pass quietly from the Shire.

It wasn't long before Baggins realized something very important on the journey. He was hopelessly drawn to the leader of the company. That fact made the long treks and even longer nights both a sinful pleasure and a nightmare. Miles slipped by as he kept his eyes trained on the straight back and wide shoulders of the princely dwarf, but nights dragged on as he longed for the warmth of a larger body beside him and calloused hands on his skin. The thoughts plagued him to the point he took the time while gathering firewood to satisfy his cravings more than once.

For his part, Thorin did not miss the long looks and searing gazes from the hobbit. He threw carefully chosen words at the halfling, meant to turn him away, but the burglar was tenacious. When Bilbo stood resolutely between Azog and the dwarf, Thorin no longer wished to dissuade the hobbit. But he knew the time would never come for his change of heart as his eyes slipped closed.

Miraculously, he opened his eyes again to the bright light of dawn and worried faces looking down on him. Thorin's first words were for the hobbit and he fell back on the taunts against him to apologize. The relief he felt in the hobbit's form while embracing him made his heart swell. Perhaps he would go to the halfling when the moment presented itself and take great pleasure in his willing body.

Camp was made in the shelter of the great rock and Thorin allowed Balin to remove his armor and check his wounds. The breathless way the Shireling offered to fetch firewood made the dwarf almost smile to himself. What indeed would he find if he followed the burglar. Images of pressing the smaller form to the loamy ground distracted him as the older dwarf prodded his injuries and cleaned them. He wondered if the hobbit's face would flush in embarrassment and denied pleasure, or if he would nip at his lips, twisting with need below him.

Finally released from Balin's ministrations, Thorin made some excuse and drifted into the trees in search of his burglar. When he found the hobbit, he could not have imagined the scene before him. Bilbo had one arm braced against a tree, trousers undone and loose around his hips, his other hand furiously stroking himself. Want flooded the dwarf and he could not resist approaching the halfling.

Pleasure had dulled Bilbo's hearing and he gasped when strong arms trapped him against the tree. The much larger dwarf surrounded the Shireling and he only took a moment to relax into the embrace, slowly stroking his softened cock back to full hardness. Thorin pressed his face into his shoulder, nuzzling the warm flesh and letting his breath raise goose pimples across it. The burglar let out a whimper of need that shot straight to the dwarf's groin.

Thorin bit the throbbing pulse under his lips, pleased by the startled cry released by the hobbit. He gripped the stroking hand and squeezed, dragging a mewl of desire from the smaller creature. The dwarf set a relentless pace and slipped his arm around his chest, drawing the halfling tight to his body. Bilbo bit down hard on his lip to restrain his groan of completion as the older dwarf wrenched the pleasure from his body. All of the strength left his legs and he was held up by the leader of their company and the object of his unbridled desires.

A fierce wave of possessiveness came over the prince as he licked and nibbled at the flushed hobbit's neck. "No one else is to see you come undone, understand?"

"Only you, Thorin." Bilbo agreed and pressed himself into the wall of warm flesh at his back.

Once the burglar could stand again, the dwarf tilted his face up and kissed him hard. It was a branding kiss of promise and warning to obey and Bilbo agreed wholeheartedly. When Thorin returned to the camp followed shortly by the hobbit, Balin noticed the smug smile playing at their lips like a secret longing to burst forth.

Days of travel ended in the same routine. Dwarves would go about their duties, clearing the ground and starting a fire before Thorin would wander off and Bilbo would follow. The hobbit never had difficulty finding the older dwarf and never complained when the prince would forego his own pleasure in favor of driving the hobbit to the very edge and over it. Somehow they reached an agreement that pleasure was freely given and the only words that needed to be spoken were pleas for more.

Arriving at Beorn's house changed the dynamic of the company. For once they were not setting up camp and bundled together for warmth. Thorin and Bilbo had no excuse to slip away, and nowhere to go to. There wasn't a moment alone to themselves and the dwarf resented it. He wanted to lead the hobbit away from the others and spread him wide before plunging into his achingly hot depths. There was no limit to the times and ways he wanted the burglar.

By the third day, the prince was done waiting. He was going to take the hobbit in front of the company, Gandalf included, if he did not find somewhere to claim him in private. In the end, it was only by luck that found them locked in a small room, quite alone, and a levatious look on the dwarf's face. Bilbo kissed the taller man's lips, deftly undoing buckles and ties until the heavy furs slipped to the floor followed by belts and weapons until only the well worn tunics separated their skin. It only took moments for the halfling to remove his own clothes.

Thorin bent the small creature to his whim, tasting where he wished and touching what he desired. Never once did the Shireling pull away or flinch. He wanted to follow the charismatic dwarf, no matter where he lead, wanted to feel the raw power moving within him, and wanted to experience the burn of being taken thoroughly and completely.

At one point, the hobbit may have been ashamed by the wanton behavior, but he let those thoughts go as he felt the thick finger press him open and explore his most intimate parts in earnest. Nothing mattered when he was breached by a second finger and reduced to a whimpering, quivering ball of nerves. When the third finger stretched him impossibly tight, Bilbo opened his mouth to beg for more. Thorin obliged, positioning himself to plunder the darkest caverns of the burglar but he held back for a heartbeat.

"Who do you belong to?"

"You, Thorin." Bilbo tried to push back and impale himself but firm hands on his hips stilled his movements. "Only you!"

"Mine!" The prince pressed himself inexorably forward until they could be no closer.

It was torturous to be separated from the dwarves in Thranduil's dungeons. Hidden from view by his ring, the hobbit searched for the rest of the company, quickly locating all but one, Thorin. Bilbo ached to find the dwarf, both for the prince's sake of company and for his own desire. In the days that he searched, the halfling refused to touch himself before finding his lover and companion.

The neglect of his need made the moment he found Thorin all the sweeter to the halfling. Their brows rested together through the bars and the dwarf cupped his cheek. When they broke their kiss of greeting, the prince asked about each of their companions in turn, nodding at the dim report. Everyone had been captured and imprisoned, they were fed and watered, but there was little hope of escape.

Forced to leave the dwarf by returning elves, Bilbo visited when he could, but continued to resolutely deny himself any pleasure. It was a driving force to continue searching for escape, and he drove himself to look through the palace for anything that could help. The hobbit's persistence paid off when he noticed the comings and goings of the barrels through the lowest halls and the trap door leading to the river. He was practically hard with the thought of escape and what he could finally do when the steel bars were no longer between him and the dwarf.

When they finally reached Laketown and were given rooms for the night, Bilbo didn't wait for Thorin to undress before he pushed him back on the bed, trousers undone, and straddled the waiting cock. It was all pushing fingers and biting teeth, and the hobbit discovered that the dwarf made the most erotic sound when his hair was pulled. They spent themselves quickly before bathing in the slightly cooled water.

The hobbit was seriously considering drifting off to sleep in the comfortable bed when the dwarf slid in beside him and pulled his pliant body close. Thorin moved slowly inside his small hobbit and held him close, savoring his soft form and curly hair. Bilbo never wanted to leave that cozy room on the lake but he knew the prince would be eager to enter the kingdom that was his birthright.

When after several days, the dragon did not return, Thorin decided it was safe enough to let down their guard a little. He banished the rest of the company from the treasure hall, leaving no room for questions. No one balked at the strange order as they saw the glower on the prince's face. If he wanted to be left alone with the gold, that was his right. Only a few of the company realized that Bilbo had not been ejected with the rest.

The hobbit had no use for gold and gems and after the initial awe of being surrounded by so much wealth had worn off, he dismissed the treasure. But he knew what it meant to Thorin and did not object when the rest of the company was sent away. Once they were completely alone, the dwarf shed his fur lined coat and spread it across the gold. He undressed the burglar slowly, revealing soft skin and worshiping every inch. Carefully, the prince sifted through the mounds of treasure and plucked out a ring.

Thorin adorned the hobbit in finery befitting royalty before laying him down on the fur coat. Bilbo had never felt more special in that moment as he held the king close to his heart and listened to his whispers.

"Always like this, little one."

"Never a dream."

"You're more precious than all of this."

There was no doubt in his mind as he gave his heart completely to Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the mountain, amid the gold and jewels of his people.

"Little hobbits do not belong in battle!"

Thorin had roared as Bilbo appeared at his side before the goblin ranks. There was a fierce shouting match that impressed many of the Iron Hills dwarves, and the hobbit refused to stay in the mountain while everyone else fought and could die at any moment.

"You're letting Fili and Kili fight and they are your heirs."

"They're trained warriors."

"I'm not useless."

"You might as well be!" Thorin knew instantly that he had spoken in haste and regretted the words. He never once thought of the halfling as useless or a burden. Indeed, he knew they would not be standing on the field of battle without him.

A wall came down behind the hobbit's eyes at the furious words and he snapped his mouth shut. The click of his teeth was louder than his next words. "Useless except to warm your bed and make you shout my name in pleasure."

The king reached for the hobbit's hand but Bilbo stepped back. Thorin tried again and caught hold of one small elbow, using his brute strength to drag the hobbit closer. He looked carefully into the Shireling's eyes to show his truth. "I have never thought you useless, I only wish to protect you."

Bilbo stopped fighting and his eyes softened. "Then let me stay by your side."

"No, there would be nothing for me in Erebor if you came to harm. Stay in the mountain."

"Swear you will survive this."

"For you, I will." Thorin pressed a quick kiss to the hobbit's lips before pushing him gently back. "Now go, back up the hill."

For the sake of the promise and his trust in the king, Bilbo obeyed. At least as far as Thorin could see. As soon as he was out of sight, the halfling dipped his hand into his pocket and slipped on his ring. He drew Sting and watched the battle progress. Occasionally a lone orc or goblin would pass by his hiding spot and he did his part for the war, thinning the enemy numbers as he could.

The sun began to sink behind the lonely mountain but still the battle raged. Bilbo shouted with joy when the eagles joined the fray causing a wounded elf to look around in alarm. Goblins and orcs began to flee the battle until only elves, men, and dwarves remained standing. Knowing the dwarves would soon be returning to the mountain, the hobbit hurried to meet them.

There were no songs of victory and battle, only the sounds of armor being dropped to the stone floors and the cries of the wounded. Eventually someone pointed the hobbit towards a small room where Gandalf stood leaning on his staff, one arm in a sling. Bilbo slowed as he saw the wizard's bowed head and he assumed the worst.

"Thorin?"

"Inside." Gandalf wouldn't meet the halfling's eyes.

Bilbo almost didn't dare push the heavy door open, but he had to know. If there was any hope, he would give anything for the keeper of his heart. When he finally looked upon the wide bed, his heart leapt to his throat. Instantly he knew it was not Thorin laying broken on the bed, but Fili and Kili. The king held his heir's cold hand tightly, shaking in rage at the damage done to his nephews. The brothers looked surprisingly peaceful, having been cleaned and their wounds wrapped, but their breath had long left their young bodies.

Bilbo stood silently beside the king mourning his kin and heirs. He too felt their loss keenly as they had been the heart of the company on their long tramp eastward. Their easy camaraderie endeared the hobbit to the brothers and he remembered fondly Kili's butchering of his name. The song they sang drove an arrow of fear through the halfling as he tried to rescue his pottery, but now it was a bright memory of their easy smiles. It was unfair that two so young were taken to the Hall of Waiting before their elders and the Shireling wept.

"He would not defend himself when Kili fell." The words were hollow and toneless from the king. "I feared losing one of my sister-sons on this journey, but I have lost both."

Bilbo only thought to offer his sympathy and support for the dwarf when he placed his hand on Thorin's shoulder but he was instantly rejected. "Do not touch me!"

The hobbit stepped back from the king, flinching as if he expected to be struck. "I-I'm sorry."

"Leave my sight. You are no longer welcome in my mountain!"

Tears welled in the hobbit's eyes. "What did I do?"

"I will not have your near." Thorin turned back to his nephews, refusing to look upon the Shireling any longer.

Bilbo fled the room and rushed past Gandalf, ignoring the wizard's calls. He didn't consciously think about where he went as he ran, turning away from inhabited corridors. Eventually, the hobbit was so lost in the mountain he could not have found his way out even if he wished to. It could have been hours or days later that the halfling heard movement in the dark tunnel. Vaguely, he contemplated slipping on his magic ring but he changed his mind. If it was some creature coming to eat him, he wasn't going to make it difficult. To his great surprise, a heavy form settled beside him.

"You certainly made yourself hard to find." Balin's voice drifted out of the darkness.

"I'm not welcome here any more and didn't know where else to go."

"And I am sorry about that."

"What did I do wrong, Balin?"

"You didn't do anything wrong, laddie." The dwarf sighed. "Thorin just didn't handle it well."

"I just don't understand."

"I know Thorin likes you, and I'm sure he would have approached you, but now he's the last of his line and has to think of his kingdom." Balin tugged thoughtfully on the end of his beard. "We dwarves only love once and I think he is trying to stop that from happening."

Bilbo wanted to tell the older dwarf that hobbits were the same, only giving their hearts to one, never whole without them. He wanted to cry out that he had already given Thorin everything. But then he thought of all the dwarves in Erebor and the king they would need. The halfling could not bring himself to bind the dwarf to him out of selfish desire.

"I think I understand. I'll leave right away."

All of the company came to say goodbye to the hobbit, and to press gifts into his hands. Balin brought two chests from the treasury. Dwalin handed him a small knife for cooking and whittling. Bofur handed over his own well worn hat. Bombur presented him with an artfully carved bowl and spoon. Bifur grunted something in Khazad the halfling didn't understand and draped a waterproof cloak over his shoulders. Oin brought a packet of pipe weed and Gloin replaced the pipe he had lost on the journey. Dori gave him a satchel for tea, and Nori a hand made cup. Ori timidly passed over a red book, motioning to open it. Several pages had already been filled with sketches of the entire company and Bilbo smiled his thanks.

The hobbit refused to look towards the balcony overlooking the gate. He didn't want to be disappointed that Thorin did not see him off. It was easier to tell himself that the king watched from the heights long after the halfling passed out of view than to admit he could never see the lordly dwarf again. Slowly, as the mountain fell into the distance and trees blocked it from view, it became easier to trudge along on his pony, only Gandalf for company.

In Mirkwood, it seemed as if some evil was lifted from the woods, for the wizard sang and whistled merrily and there was no pressing weight over the land. But Bilbo could not manage to smile or laugh or join in any of the songs. He remembered sitting in his snug hole, cursing the dwarves that had decimated his kitchen and ransacked his house when they had begun to sing. They spoke of great mountains and hoards of gold and the adventure to return their home. Perched on a pony, leaving the companions he thought of now as family, the hobbit cursed the gray cloaked wizard and his machinations.


	2. A Matter of Heritage

Warning: This was a special request from a friend. Turn back now if mpreg isn't your thing.

Needless to say, I do not own anything related to The Hobbit, Lord of The Rings, any of J.R.R. Tolkien's works, or Peter Jackson's versions.

_Italics are elvish_

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A Matter of Hobbits

Winter descended on the pair of travelers, along with a deep lethargy over Bilbo. Most mornings he couldn't be bothered to push off his blanket and once the wizard would get him moving, the hobbit simply didn't care about anything. Neither spoke of the haste and hour they left the lonely mountain, but Gandalf kept a close eye on the halfling.

Fortunately, the morning the hobbit awoke green in the face and retching next to his blankets, they were only hours from Beorn's home. Gandalf packed up their small camp, placed the pale hobbit on his pony, and lead them as quickly as he could to the skin changer's hall. By the time they arrived, however, Bilbo had regained the color in his cheeks and was back to his new normal of not really caring what happened around him. The wizard humphed and shook his head, greeting Beorn warmly.

Great white flakes drifted down from the sky and coated everything in a fluffy blanket for days and the great skin changer would hear nothing of the pair leaving before the air had warmed. Bilbo mostly kept apart from the two men, puffing gently on the pipe he had received and staring out of the hall. He wanted to be done traveling, wanted to stay in one place, and hear nothing of dwarves, or elves, or men.

His heart hurt with every step he took further away from the Lonely Mountain and the company he looked on as family. In the night, when only the coals of the fire gave a warm glow to the room, the halfling imagined he could see the shadows of the company on the wall. There was Bombur's great belly, and Dwalin's war axes. Bofur's hat and Kili's bow. To the very edge, he could see Thorin's proud stance, never bending even under the greatest of danger. Tears filled Bilbo's eyes again and then left his bed. He sought out the hidden store room he had spent the night with the kingly dwarf, full of promises of belonging and always. Without shame, the Shireling pulled his knees to his chest and sobbed loudly.

Sickness in the morning continued every day but vanished by afternoon and Bilbo waved it off as the stresses of travel in such dismal weather every time Gandalf mentioned it, but the wizard persisted.

"It is hardly the weather since you have been comfortably indoors for a month."

"Then what is it?" The hobbit didn't bother to try hiding his irritated tone at the meddling.

"Have you lain with anyone?"

Bilbo gasped at the audacity of the wizard. "What business is it of yours?"

"I am only trying to help you."

"It is still none of your business."

"It is a matter of heritage, I must know, for your health."

"Fine. So what if I did?" The halfling was flushed with embarrassment at the old man's scrutiny.

"And you love him?"

"Yes." It was barely a whisper, almost lost under the whistling of the wind outside.

"Who?"

"No."

Gandalf sighed heavily and leaned back, studying the halfling. Bilbo stared at his feet, curly hair hiding his eyes but the wizard knew he was was fighting back tears. "I must tell you something."

The Shireling's shoulders hunched quietly but he did not object. "You know of the great power of the elves in their blessings." A shake that could have been a sob or a nod.

"Many ages ago, elves saw the small people of the shire and their great love of all things living and they were so moved by their generosity and heart that they blessed the people with the ability to have many children."

"Not to leave out those that chose other men or other women to share their lives with, the elves gave them the ability to bear their own children, should they give their hearts completely."

A whimper and a sniffle escaped the hobbit but he shook his head. "I don't believe you."

"And yet you have seen men with children. And even you are descended from one of the first to use the elf magic to have a family."

He shook his head more firmly. "I refuse to accept that."

"Fine, but we will leave when you are no longer ill in the mornings."

Nothing the wizard could say would make the halfling change his mind so he threw up his hands in defeat and walked away. Dwarves were known for their stubbornness, but so were hobbits if the mood struck, especially Tooks. Bilbo wanted to believe what the wizard said to simply have something left of Thorin, but the thought of caring for something so small as a child was terrifying. It was far simpler to think the old man was addled by pipeweed and age. But that night in the closeting dark, the Shireling rubbed his hand over his stomach, wondering what it would be like to carry the prince's child.

When Bilbo's dinner managed to stay down two mornings in a row, Gandalf announced their intention to leave that very day. Beorn tried to convince them to stay, but the wizard was adamant that they must get to Rivendell with all haste. The skin changer agreed and set about proving supplies and readying the horses. Soon they were on their way back over the Misty Mountains and into the Hidden Valley.

The travel was slow through the deep snow and prevailing winds, particularly when they began to climb higher into the mountains. Bilbo shivered not with the cold, but with the memory of Goblintown and the creature he met in the roots of the mountain. With the Battle of Five Armies having diminished the orc and goblin races, they were not set upon by any beasts or men, and only twice were they turned from their path by weather.

Even with the relative ease of travel, it was many weeks before they began to descend again. Bilbo was thankful for the warm furs Beorn had gifted him for the cold journey and gladly removed them when they left the snowy peaks. To his great surprise, his waistcoat, which had always buttoned snugly over his slightly round stomach would not close, even with half of the buttons gone. Bundled in furs and protecting every bit of flesh from the frigid winds, the hobbit had not noticed his waistline expanding.

Gandalf watched from the rock he sat on as the hobbit ran his hands over his belly, feeling the changes in his body and finally accepting what the wizard had told him weeks before. Bilbo's face was alight with wonder as he imagined how he would continue to grow and what it would be like to feel the child move under his skin. He wanted to run all of the way back to Erebor and beg Thorin to take him back. But the hobbit let his hand fall away and his face darkened. The dwarf would not understand, would never accept a child tainted by the weakness of hobbit blood.

"Will it be a girl, or a boy?"

"Lord Elrond will be able to tell when we arrive." Gandalf kept watch over the Shireling as he went to rub his swollen abdomen but stopped and turned away.

Elrond had expected the gray wizard to arrive long before he did, but he knew well that the Istari appeared only when he meant to. What the aged elf had not expected was to see a pony descending into the valley alongside the wizard's horse. The Lord of Rivendell greeted his old friend with an embrace and elvish words Bilbo did not understand as he sat aimlessly on his pony, unable to dismount on his own.

_"__Welcome __Mithrandir__, __I __am __pleased __to __see __you __are __unharmed__."_

_"__Thank __you __Lord __Elrond__. __But __we __must __seek __your __assistance__."_

_"__What __is __the __matter__?"_

_"__The __halfling __has __invoked __old __magic__."_ Gandalf gestured at the pony and Elrond actually looked at Bilbo for the first time.

When the hobbit had entered his lands months ago, Elrond had paid him no heed, focusing on the rowdy dwarves and the other visitors. He remembered seeing a smaller figure among the dwarves, but passed him by as unimportant. Now he looked upon the same creature, clearly heavy with child. It had been a very long time since he had seen a man of any race in such a predicament.

_"__I__ thought __all __trace __of __that __magic __had __gone __from __the __world__."_

_"__Apparently __not__."_

_"__I __was __not __aware __there __were __halflings __to __the __east__."_

_"__There __aren__'__t__."_ Gandalf sent a look at the elf that Bilbo couldn't decipher.

The halfling was just deciding that he really wanted off the pony when Elrond's eyebrows shot up and he whipped around to look at the hobbit. "Who's is it?"

Bilbo crossed his arms over his chest. "I have no reason to tell you."

"They do not know, or they would not have let you return even this far. Unless they did not survive the battle." Gandalf looked quickly to the halfling, curiosity getting the better of him.

The burglar clenched his jaw and refused to let the hurt show on his face. "Thank you, but I will just press on to the Shire. Good day." He gripped the reins and managed to turn the pony back towards the entrance to the valley. Bilbo wanted to say that the dwarf he had fallen completely for had not survived the battle yet still lived, but he bit his tongue.

"Wait!" Gandalf barked the command and the pony stopped. Bilbo crossed his arms again and stared ahead.

"Forgive my words, halfling, a life is a precious thing and you would risk much if you leave. Rest here and travel only when the danger has passed."

Elrond's words both calmed the hobbit's anger and sent a bolt of fear down his aching back. Elves did not speak lightly of danger and he was so tired already. The thought of riding further made his whole body ache and he nodded.


	3. A Matter of Health

Warning: This was a special request from a friend. Turn back now if mpreg isn't your thing.

Needless to say, I do not own anything related to The Hobbit, Lord of The Rings, any of J.R.R. Tolkien's works, or Peter Jackson's versions.

**Thank you so much to everyone that pointed out I posted the wrong chapter last night. I apologize greatly for the mistake.**

* * *

A Matter of Hobbits

Elves lead the hobbit through airy buildings until they reached a large bathhouse, kept warm and fed by the running rivers of the valley. Music soothed the halfling as his traveling clothes were removed and he sank into the bath. Bilbo washed gratefully and allowed the weightlessness of the water ease his back. When his fingers and toes were wrinkled, the hobbit dried himself and looked in a mirror for the first time since leaving Bag End.

He didn't recognize himself in the glass and studied the stranger looking back at him. Their feet were splayed for balance and one hand rested at the small of their back. The other touched the taut skin of his belly reverently, protecting and soothing a tiny flutter of movement just under the skin. The hobbit turned away from the mirror and pulled on a loose robe allowing a willowy elf to lead him to the house he would be staying in.

Elrond was waiting for him, offering a small smile and open hands in greeting. "I did not mean to upset you. Will you allow me to judge your progress?"

"I suppose I better." Bilbo sat on the edge of the bed and looked to the elf for instruction.

Lord Elrond pressed one cool hand to the hobbit's brow and brushed the other over his stomach. "My wife was the healer here for many years. She was sought after by many for her skills as a midwife."

"What happened to her?"

"It is a long sad tale, but suffice to say I learned much and have been the healer here in Imladris for centuries." The elf moved both hands to Bilbo's abdomen, gently feeling the swell of the child making room for itself.

"I'm sorry."

"Do not trouble yourself over those who have long gone into the west. Think of this child and the life you bring to the world."

"Do you have any children?"

"Three, but they have no children of their own. Lay down." More careful prodding until something twitched under Elrond's hand. "There, did you feel him?"

Bilbo nodded, staring unseeing at the ceiling. "A son?"

"He is strong already, though you have months yet to go."

The hobbit gulped. "Months? How much larger will I get?"

"Much larger, but do not fret, dwarf children are not much bigger than hobbits."

"When can I go back to the Shire?"

"Not until after the birth. It will be difficult, but with my help no harm will come to you."

The elf removed his hands and folded them carefully as the hobbit sat up. Bilbo knew the Lord Elrond had more words for him and he sighed. "You would tell me what I do not wish to hear, won't you?"

He inclined his crowned head. "Indeed. Dwarves treasure children above gold and mountains. Would you not allow me to send a message to him?"

"No. He sent me away and would not tell me why. I will not burden him with an impure son."

"Do not think of the child you bear as impure. Only great love could have created it." Elrond nodded to the halfling and left.

Bilbo spent the days reading or sitting quietly as he watched the elves go about their days. Their lilting voices and music lifted his spirits when they fell low with thoughts of Thorin and the company. What surprised the hobbit most was when Lord Elrond appeared at his side. The elf held out a book with a slight smile.

"I thought you might like to know more about the dwarves, their history and customs."

It hadn't crossed his mind until then that he would have to choose whether or not to raise his child as a dwarf or a hobbit. "Thank you."

Elrond left the halfling to his reading and Bilbo devoured the book. For all the dwarves kept to themselves and cared for digging in the earth, they had a rich history and varied customs. Ever the learner, the Shireling filed away the knowledge for when he would need it. All too soon, however, the book was read from front to back and he desired to know more.

The Lord of Imladris again came to his aid, walking slowly around the verandas with the wadling hobbit. Elrond imparted every bit of knowledge he could remember about dwarves and their customs as well as his own experiences with fatherhood. Soon even getting out of bed was too much for the halfling and the elf would sit at his bedside to talk

During one of their long conversations, the elf was called away on some urgent matter and Bilbo was left in the large open room with no books within reach and no desire to read. He placed his small hand over his large stomach and traced the imprint of a foot pressing against his skin. The nervousness that plagued him had lifted at some point during his stay in Rivendell to be replaced with a deep longing.

The hobbit wanted nothing more than to look upon Thorin Oakenshield again in the throes of passion or to run his braids through his fingers. He wondered how the dwarf would look with one hand covering his belly or with a small child in his arms. Suddenly, the halfling realized that the king had probably already chosen a woman and set about renewing the line of Durin. Just the thought of his heart's keeper with another made rage boil in his blood and he clenched his fists.

Forcing his hands to relax, Bilbo pressed his hands to his abdomen again and sighed. At least he would have some small piece of the king with him. As the hobbit leaned back in the bed to nap until Elrond returned, he shifted his legs under the covers and a sharp pain lanced up his side. He let out a gasp and pressed his hands to his belly. If felt like an orc blade was slowly tracing up his sides and the halfling couldn't hold back the sobbing cry.

To the Shireling, it seemed like hours later that cool hands touched his brow and lilting words soothed the pain from his body. It felt like floating as all of his cares drifted away. Bilbo dreamed he was laying on the broad back of one of the giant eagles. Another bird flew a little ways ahead but there was something clutched in its talons. Slowly the eagles swooped lower until they nearly brushed the tips of the trees carpeting the valley floor.

The halfling wanted to cry in relief as he made out the shape of Carrock in the distance. He rushed to the dwarf's side as soon as the eagles had deposited them on the outcropping. Reverently, Bilbo touched the scrapes on Thorin's face and pulled him close. It felt like coming home.

When the hobbit opened his eyes, everything was too bright and Gandalf was sitting beside the bed, holding something to his chest. Upon seeing Bilbo awake, the wizard smiled broadly. "Welcome back."

"Hmm, did I go somewhere?" His tongue felt heavy and uncoordinated in his mouth.

"You were only in a healing sleep. If you are strong enough, there is someone you should meet."

Carefully, the hobbit pushed himself up in the bed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. To his surprize, Gandalf extended his arms and handed over a tiny bundle. Bilbo could not look away from the miniscule face of his son.

"You must name him."

"Frerin."

"Son of?"

The hobbit looked sharply at the old wizard. "That is still my secret to keep."

Gandalf sat back in his chair, curiosity thwarted again.


	4. A Matter of Healing

Warning: This was a special request from a friend. Turn back now if mpreg isn't your thing.

Needless to say, I do not own anything related to The Hobbit, Lord of The Rings, any of J.R.R. Tolkien's works, or Peter Jackson's versions.

* * *

A Matter of Hobbits

When Bilbo Baggins arrived in Hobbiton, many long months after he had unexpectedly left, there was an uproaring of rumors regarding his absence and the small child he brought back. Most of the tales were completely laughable, but some hit a little too close to the mark for comfort. The burglar ignored the general populous as much as he could and focused on his rapidly growing son.

Frerin grew into his dwarven father's image with a straight back, firm jaw, blue eyes, and dark hair, slightly curlier than Thorin's. Though the rest of the Shire still wondered for sure if the boy was really a hobbit or a dwarf, Bilbo never lied to his son regarding his heritage and taught him the histories and customs of both. He let Frerin choose if he would live as a hobbit, or as a dwarf. The only thing the halfling kept to himself was which of the company was his other father and the child respected that.

Years passed slowly as they ever did in Hobbiton and Bilbo was proud of his son. Despite his feet being hairless and towering over those of similar age, Frerin got on well with the other children. And when he wasn't running after imaginary orcs, he freely offered to help anyone who needed it. People stopped caring where the curious looking boy had come from and simply accepted him as one of the Shire folk.

Bilbo had finally chivied Frerin out of Bag End to go see some of his friends and finished clearing away afternoon tea when the doorbell rang. Eager to see who it was, the hobbit opened the door only to grip it as hard as he could to remain standing. On his front step stood Bofur, looking just the same as he had twenty years before. Vaguely, the shireling noticed he had not replaced the hat he had given Bilbo at his departure from Erebor.

The dwarf surrounded Bilbo in a tight embrace, practically lifting him from the floor before stepping back and grinning widely. "You're looking well, Baggins."

"Wha-Bu-Why are you here?" He cursed his inability to be articulate at certain moments.

"I wanted to see you, o'course."

"Me? Really?" Bilbo was entirely taken aback by the proclamation. "Well, come in. I can make you something if you like."

Soon the old friends were seated comfortably in front of the fire, packing their pipes. "I see you still use the pipe Gloin gave you."

"And I still wear your hat when the mood for a walk takes me."

Bofur's eyes lit up before he settled more comfortably into the chair. "They all miss you, ya know."

"I figured everyone would be too busy with the mountain to think about little old me."

"Not so, they all asked me to bring back word of how you're doing."

Bilbo blushed in pleasure that he wasn't forgotten. "How is everyone? Balin and Ori and the rest."

"Balin wants to take back Moria while the orcs are weak. Dwalin refuses to leave Erebor though. Oin and Gloin returned to the Blue Mountains. Bombur never leaves the kitchens and I'm not sure where Bifur is. Dori, Nori, and Ori all work in the mountain doing something or other."

"And Thorin? How is he?"

The hobbit saw the hesitation in the dwarf's face. "He is a fine king."

"What's wrong?" Bilbo was eager for any news of his one time lover but tried to hide it.

"Well, he hasn't produced an heir yet and the people want a strong line ready for the throne."

Bilbo wondered if he had perhaps he should have fought to stay in Erebor. But he had no way of knowing at the time he carried the king's son or that Thorin could have no other in his place. Quickly, the halfling changed the topic. "What about you? Have you found a wife yet?"

Bofur looked down at his feet. "Nay, though I had hoped to find someone to share the house I built with me. It's small, on the north side of the mountain, away from everything."

"Anyone would be lucky to have you as a friend. Or more."

The dwarf's gaze was fixed on his knee as be chewed his lip. "I want you to come back with me."

Staring at the taller dwarf, Bilbo tried to find words. "I cannot give my heart to you as it already belongs to another."

Bofur's eyes widened. "Oh, you found a nice lass, I'm sorry I bothered yeh."

The hobbit opened his mouth to correct his friend but the round green door burst open and Frerin burst in, already speaking quickly. "Father! Otho said he saw a dwarf by the Green- oh!" He came to a halt in the sitting room, staring at the dwarf by the fire.

Bofur gaped at the youth. He thought he was staring at a young carefree Thorin except he knew that was impossible. "Well bless me!"

"Frerin Baggins, as your service." He bowed low to the older dwarf.

"Bofur at yours." He nodded and stared hard at the youngster.

Bilbo could see the unspoken questions in both of their faces but he did not want to answer in front of his son. "Frerin, go on back outside."

"But father."

"Go, I'll answer you questions later. Now I haven't seen my friend in many years."

"Yes father." The young dwarf turned to Bofur. "Pleased to meet you sir."

When Frerin had closed the door, the dwarf turned back to Bilbo, his face unreadable. "The lad is Thorin's, isn't he?"

"Yes." The hobbit shifted uncomfortably, fingering his pipe.

"You an' he?" He made a motion with his hands and Bilbo blushed furiously.

"Yes."

"Then why did you leave?" Bofur looked sad and his voice was softer.

The halfling felt tears prick his eyes at the question but would not let them fall. "He sent me away and I didn't know I was with child." He sniffled softly and sighed. "By the time I did, I couldn't go back. No one would accept a half-blood dwarf for an heir."

Ever the sensitive one of the company to the hobbit, Bofur slid out of his chair and knelt before the smaller creature, wrapping his strong arms around him. "I would."

Bilbo knew that the dwarf had always been sweet to him on the journey, but the depth of that feeling had been unclear until now. The hobbit desperately wanted to accept the unspoken offering, to be cared for and have a companion. Even if it wasn't the dwarf king. And he was sure that Bofur would never hold it against him that he had already lost his heart to another.

"Alright."

The dwarf squeezed him tighter, mindful of his delicate form and grinned. Bilbo couldn't help smiling back at those cheerful dimples. "You've made a simple dwarf so happy."

The Shireling missed the older dwarf's warmth as he pulled back and reseated himself in his chair. "I suppose I should find Frerin and tell him to pack."

"You would do that? Move to the Lonely Mountain, with me?"

"Why not? Frerin shouldn't be kept away from other dwarves and I'm afraid my relatives would die of shock if you came to live here at Bag End."

"I thought you didn't like those Sockfull-Baggenses?"

Bilbo chuckled at the mispronunciation and then laughed at the idea of any hobbit wearing socks. "I don't. I'll give Bag End to my brother Drogo, I think he was going to ask Primula to marry soon."

They relit their pipes and sat quietly for a time, until the weed was reduced to ash and the reality of the agreement sunk in. Bilbo pushed himself out of his chair and smiled again. "Make yourself at home and I'll talk to Frerin."

The halfling found his son sitting as patiently as a young dwarf or hobbit could on the bench next to the road and sat down beside him.

"Is that the same Bofur from the company?"

"The very same."

"And he gave you that hat?"

"Yes."

Frerin shredded the blade of grass he held between his fingers before asking what had clearly been on his mind. "He's not my father, is he?"

"Not by blood. But he wants us to live with him."

The young dwarf's head shot up in surprise. "In Erebor?"

"On the north side of the mountain. He's built a house there."

"Can we go? I want to meet King Thorin."

"No!" Bilbo instinctively wanted to keep his son away from the ire of his father. "If we go, it will not be to bother the king."

Frerin frowned. "I thought you were friends, on the adventure?"

"I-I was merely a part of the company. Besides, Thorin is king now. He has a lot more to look after than a pack of dwarves and one lost hobbit."

The dwarf nodded in understanding and Bilbo embraced him as best he could. He secretly missed the days when Frerin was small enough to nestle in his lap for a story or could still tuck his head under his father's chin for a hug. "Go on and pack, I'm sure you're eager to leave."

Dismissed, he lept to his feet and ran up the small steps. "Thank you father!"


	5. A Matter of Home

Warning: This was a special request from a friend. Turn back now if mpreg isn't your thing.

Needless to say, I do not own anything related to The Hobbit, Lord of The Rings, any of J.R.R. Tolkien's works, or Peter Jackson's versions.

* * *

A Matter of Hobbits

It was a whirlwind of activity as the hobbits went quickly through each room and packed what they would need for the journey. Bofur looked on amused, playing on his pipe and staying out of their way. Night had fallen before they had finished so they agreed that first light would see them gone. Dinner was a raucous affair, though not nearly as much so as the disastrous tea party 20 years prior. Frerin hung off of Bofur's every word, and Bilbo smiled to see the lad take so well to the first dwarf he had met. That night, none of them could sleep for excitement, and were up before the first cock could crow.

Bilbo sealed a key to Bag End with a letter to Drogo telling where he had gone and slipped it into his letterbox as they left the Shire. The hobbit took one glance back, but he was not sad to leave. He knew what lie ahead and his heart beat stronger with every step eastward. The days were passed with stories and songs, meant to educate Frerin as well as entertain him.

They stopped at familiar places along the way, reminiscing and showing Frerin the adventures they had. At the Trollshaws, Bilbo and Bofur avoided the stone trolls, remembering just how close they had come to failing in their quest to reclaim the mountain. Out of curiosity, they peeked into the cave and found nothing disturbed.

"I suppose you don't need that chest of gold you buried." Bilbo smirked, poking at the loose dirt.

"I have more important things than gold now."

The hobbit blushed and looked further into the cave. To his surprise, one of the swords was not as filthy as the others and he touched the hilt. He recognized the blade brought it into the light. Though he hadn't gotten much time to study Thorin's blade, he knew this was the sword that had been replaced by Orcrist.

"Frerin, I have something for you."

"What is it father?"

Bilbo held out the heavy weapon. The dwarf was not yet full grown, but lifted the blade easier than the hobbit had. "It's dwarven. How did the trolls get it?" He looked in awe at the sharp edge.

"That's the blade Thorin carried before Orcrist."

Frerin's eyes went wide. "Can I keep it?"

"Of course. Maybe Bofur will even teach you how to use it."

"Mister Bofur?" The youth ran after the older dwarf, leaving Bilbo chuckling at his exuberance.

Bilbo let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding when Bofur turned towards Rivendell. The dwarf had not been as adamantly against the elves as Thorin had, but the hobbit wondered if he held them ill will for their treatment in Mirkwood. Frerin had long heard stories of the beauty of Imladris, and wished to see it with his own eyes. When they rounded the corner and the young dwarf took in the beautiful valley, he gaped even more than Bilbo had 20 years ago.

The hobbit lead the way into Rivendell and greeted Lord Elrond happily. The elf knelt unexpectedly and embraced the halfling as an old friend.

"I am pleased to see you smiling again." The tall elf looked to Bofur. "Is he the cause of your happiness."

"He helps." Bilbo called to his son. "Frerin, I would like you to meet Lord Elrond."

The young dwarf stepped from behind Bofur and looked upon the elf lord for the first time. Elrond's face creased slightly as he took in the gray-blue eyes and dark hair. Though beardless, the youth was every bit Thorin's son and the Lord of Imladris knew it.

"Welcome back to Rivendell, Frerin. You have grown much since I last saw you."

"I don't remember anywhere but the Shire."

"You were born here and were hardly a month old when Bilbo returned to the Shire. But please, make yourself comfortable, I wish to speak with your father." The elf's hand settled on the hobbit's shoulder, ensuring he did not wander off.

After Lindir lead Bofur and Frerin away, Elrond looked hard at the halfling. "Thorin Oakenshield is the father." It wasn't a question

"Frerin doesn't know."

"And the other, does he think that it is his son?"

"No!" Bilbo looked scandalized. "We're just-just friends."

"Dwarves do not accept other's children as their own."

"I- He- We haven't discussed it at length, but he knows I cannot love him as he does me."

"Be sure you do not break his heart as Thorin broke yours." Elrond nodded at his own advice before he relaxed slightly. "Come, it is not my place to dictate your actions, I merely wish to give you advice."

Bilbo remained silent as he followed the elf to the dwarves and dinner.

Frerin was as fascinated by the elves as by his own people but after two days in Rivendell, even the curious young dwarf could not contain his excitement for pressing on to the east. They thanked their hosts, and soon were entering the wilds again. Bilbo watched as his son became more coordinated with his father's sword, practicing nightly with Bofur or chasing imaginary foes. The hobbit was content and looked forward to his new home and new life.

To his surprise, the trek eastward was rather uneventful. There were no encounters with trolls or goblins, and no wargs nipping at their heels. Bilbo took the time to enjoy Bofur's cheerful company and the wonder his son showed at everything around him. The halfling couldn't remember laughing so much, despite the discomforts of travel.

The evening before entering Mirkwood, Bilbo watched Frerin spar with Bofur, the sword moving quickly and carefully, never aiming to injure the older dwarf. For the first time, Bofur was knocked to the ground and the young dwarf held his sword triumphantly to the elder's throat. Bofur smiled at Frerin's success, quickly getting to his feet.

"Very good, laddie!" He slapped the youth hard on his shoulder. "But I've seen you blowing your hair out of your eyes."

The older dwarf glanced to Bilbo for permission and the hobbit nodded. "I reckon it's fair time you start braiding your hair."

Frerin paused in pushing his hair back from his face. "But braids are for those who have earned them."

"I think you've earned these."

Bofur sat before the fire and motioned for Frerin to join him. The hobbit was in awe of the easy way the dwarf separated the strands and twisted them together. They let silence flow around them as first one side was braided and then the other. From some pouch or pocket, Bofur produced several silver clips and fixed the ends of the braids so they would not come undone.

Frerin was pronounced finished and he examined the new adornments. A braid hung in front and behind each ear, the silver clasps brushing his collar while half of his hair was gathered back to keep it out of his eyes. Bilbo recognized it as the same way Fili had wore his hair years before. Bofur sat next to the hobbit and they watched the young dwarf learning how his hair felt while wielding a sword.

"Thank you Bofur!"

He waved the youth away with a smile. "I thought those braids would suit him."

"Frerin does not know the meaning of them."

"Why haven't you told him who is father is?"

"Why are accepting him as your own?" Bilbo shot back.

The dwarf considered for a moment. "Because he's dear to you."

"What do you think I can give you? You know I cannot give you my heart." The halfling looked down at the ground between his hairy toes.

"I don't want to lay awake at night wondering if you are safe in the Shire. I don't want to wonder if you're happy. I would be as near as you would allow, as long as you let me."

"And do you ask nothing in return?"

"Only that you let me see you smile and that you are well."

Bilbo did smile as he laid his head gently on Bofur's shoulder. "I think I could do that."

The Lonely Mountain was even more breathtaking that he remembered. Time had dulled the sharp crags and towering cliffs of his memory, but his heart still told him it was home. Bofur lead them around to the north, avoiding the many traveling caravans and travelers passing through Dale. When Bilbo saw the land the dwarf had claimed as his own, he instantly thought of all the vegetables and flowers it would grow.

But the house was what took the hobbit's breath away. It sat snugly against the base of the mountain, extending into the hard rock. Bilbo turned in awe to the dwarf and took in his worried expression. Bofur was terrified that the halfling would not accept his offering, even after traveling across Middle Earth.

"It's perfect." The dwarf let out the breath he was holding as Bilbo hugged him tightly.

Frerin and Bilbo settled comfortably into their new life with Bofur. The hobbit found that Thorin granted his former companion ownership of any gems and gold he found and the land proved to be as fertile as the Shire. They grew more than enough for themselves and traded often with the men of Laketown.

Bilbo Baggins could not help thanking the day he unthinkingly accepted Bofur's proposition. Frerin thrived on the hard work and demanding hours of farming and mining, only complaining when he was forbidden to attend any of the festivals and special occasions of the men or dwarves.

But despite being completely satisfied, the hobbit could not forget the one he had given his heart to. It seemed like every time the halfling turned around, his son looked more like his dwarven father. He knew it was Bofur's doing, giving Frerin the blue tunic and leather bracers, but he couldn't bring himself to ask him to stop.

Instead he would seek out the older dwarf and sit closer to him than was necessary. Bofur would place an arm tentatively around the hobbit and draw him near. After Frerin had received a fur jacket, very similar to the ones worn by Thorin and Fili, Bilbo couldn't hide his sniffle as he leaned close to the dwarf.

"I'm sorry Bilbo. There is just so much of his father in him, and he doesn't know it."

"Anyone who sees him will know."

"Aye, but the would know just as quickly without the coat and braids."

"I don't want him to be disappointed when Thorin turns him away."

"Frerin would make a fine prince."

"Except he would never be accepted by the rest of Erebor."

Bofur had no soothing words for the hobbit so he held him closer and pressed a kiss to his curly hair. He would give his life for the halfling to be truly happy, but the only place that would be was at Thorin's side. The dwarf sighed and savored the feeling of having the soft Shireling pressed tightly to his side.


	6. A Matter of Hope

Warning: This was a special request from a friend. Turn back now if mpreg isn't your thing.

Needless to say, I do not own anything related to The Hobbit, Lord of The Rings, any of J.R.R. Tolkien's works, or Peter Jackson's versions.

* * *

A Matter of Hobbits

Only very rarely did anyone visit the oddly matched family so when a knock echoed through the house in the summer of Frerin's 25th year, Bilbo hesitantly opened the door.

There on the doorstep stood Balin, looking just as surprised as the hobbit felt. The dwarf pulled Bilbo into a tight embrace, smiling at seeing his friend. "I never thought I'd see you again."

"L-likewise. But how did you find us?"

"I ran into Bofur in Dale and he looked happier than I've ever known him." The silver haired dwarf looked the hobbit up and down. "I thought he might have been keeping a lass secret here but now I find its you!"

Bilbo blushed slightly at the wink the old dwarf gave him but Balin continued on. "You clever burglar, stealing our Bofur's heart, just wait until Thorin hears you're back."

"You can't tell Thorin!"

Balin was taken aback by the sudden outburst. "But why not? He speaks often of you and regrets sending you away."

Bilbo tried to find some excuse for hiding his presence so close to Erebor, but the front door opened and Frerin entered. The hobbit silently cursed his son's ability to interrupt and pointed at the door. "No questions, just go back outside."

Frerin didn't argue with his clearly flustered father and shut the door again. Balin stared after the young dwarf before turning back to Bilbo. "By Durin's beard, I would swear that was Thorin, 80 years younger."

"That's why he can't know I'm here."

"But how?"

"Apparently it's a matter of heritage for hobbits. Old magic and such."

"But that means..." Balin's voice drifted off as he made the connection to Thorin's lack of success with concubines that later fell pregnant by other dwarves.

Bilbo stared up at the dwarf, eyes wide, waiting for whatever would happen next. "I couldn't bear it if he denied Frerin." He didn't want to let the tears filling his eyes fall, but the wetness still touched his lashes.

"Oh Bilbo." The dwarf pulled the hobbit against his broad chest. "He has regretted it every day that he sent you away. He loves you."

"Even still?"

"Dwarves only love once in their life and cannot have another." Balin held the hobbit at arms length. "But what of Bofur?"

Bilbo sighed and rubbed his face. "He knows about Thorin."

"That is a difficult place to be, to love one that already loves another."

"It's worked well so far."

The dwarf nodded and released the smaller creature. "It's not unheard of, but it is usually due to death, not choice."

"Do you think I could have done anything differently?"

"No, you did the right thing. And he looks to be a fine lad. I would very much like to meet him."

"Yo-you may, but he does not know who his father is."

"I will not tell him if you wish it."

Frerin had grown tired of waiting for his father to introduce him to the dwarf he had glimpsed in their house so he found work to do near the door. Balin and Bilbo watched the youth doing his chores for a moment, the dwarf nodding in approval.

"He is truly his father's son but does he show any halfling features?"

"Hairy feet and a lack of height you mean?"

"Aye."

"Nothing that I have noticed. Though, he has my heart I suppose."

Balin could see the twin braids by his ears. "You know that his braids proclaim him as Thorin's heir?"

"That was Bofur's doing. I saw no harm in it as he doesn't go near the city and I didn't have the heart to tell him to take them out."

Frerin turned to see his father talking quietly with the gray haired dwarf and quickly put away his tools. He could tell the old dwarf was somehow important in the city and tried to look his most mature. If a citizen of Erebor was visiting, he wanted to make a good first impression.

"Frerin Baggins at your service."

Balin glanced at Bilbo who gave a tiny shrug at the youth's chosen introduction. "Balin, son of Fundin at yours."

"The same Balin that helped my father and Thorin take back Erebor?"

"Aye, the very same."

The young dwarf looked over the elder with a critical eye. "You're not my father either."

"No, but I knew him before he could lift a sword."

"You did? What was he like?"

"Curious as could be and quick as a whip. He was an honorable dwarf."

"Thank you." Frerin bowed to the older dwarf.

Bilbo had expected the young dwarf to demand to know who his father was, but instead he seemed somewhat diminished. "Will you be joining us for dinner?"

"Uh, no. I should head back to the gates. Do tell Bofur I came by."

Frerin was quiet for several days after Balin's visit and Bilbo worried. Usually the youth was full of energy and wanted to understand everything. To be honest, the hobbit had expected the dwarf to demand to know who his other father was long ago, but he never questioned his father's wish to keep it a secret. The halfling wondered when he would eventually have to share his biggest secret as he couldn't keep Frerin away from Dale forever and someone would easily make the connection. Bilbo simply feared that word would somehow reach Thorin.

Balin took advantage of the long trek back to the gates of Erebor. He was conflicted over his meeting with the burglar and his son. Thorin had indeed pined over sending the halfling away after he could produce no heir. It hadn't mattered that he pushed the small creature away because his heart had already been stolen and now he had nothing. The old dwarf had watched his king pull away from his companions and even the Arkenstone held no comfort for him.

But Bilbo was right, Frerin was not pure dwarf. The union of two races was unheard of before now and there was no knowing how the king or his people would react. He decided he must tread carefully if the young dwarf was to know his full heritage. No king should be without an heir and no child without a father, not that he thought of the hobbit as a mother. Only true bonding could have brought Frerin into being.

Balin spent all of his time in the halls of records looking for any sign that a dwarf of any rank had ever joined willingly with another race. It was unheard of among Erebor, even before the dragon, but he let out a breath of relief when some of the immigrants from the Iron Hills mentioned companionship with humans as dwarf women were so rare. Hobbits would surely be more acceptable than elves or men. He had only to choose his time carefully.

"Have any new women arrived recently?" Balin noticed the way the king's eyes followed a young lass.

"Why do I even bother?"

"Because you care for your people and wish the line of Durin to endure." It was a conversation they had many times before.

"I take no desire for their forms and feel soiled after every attempt."

"Then take back the one you wish to have." Balin knew it was a bold suggestion but he had to try.

The king scoffed. "He would only hate me after so many years."

"I do not think hobbits know how to hate."

"Then it is my fault for teaching him how to."

Balin knew he would get no more from the king that day.

"I heard a curious thing in Dale." The silver haired dwarf kept an eye on his king's brooding face.

His voice held no enthusiasm as he spoke. "Do tell?"

"It is said that some of the races to the west can have children of their men."

"And some would think you drink too much."

Balin caught the flash of almost hope before it was gone again. "Aye, but is it not a wondrous thing?"

"A wondrous flight of fancy." Thorin dismissed the notion.

"Do you think the others would ever accept a child of part dwarven blood?" Balin tried to be nonchalant with the question, but Thorin still looked up sharply.

"Why would you ask such a thing?"

"It is well known that dwarf women are scarce. Could it not be an option to refresh our people?"

The king pondered for a moment, face unreadable. "It would allow more of our people to have families." Then his face turned sour. "But if you are going to suggest I lay with a human woman, I will not do it."

"But wouldn't a mixed blood heir be acceptable?"

"Of course it would. Any heir is preferable to none."

Balin nodded, keeping his smile of victory to himself.


	7. A Matter of History

Warning: This was a special request from a friend. Turn back now if mpreg isn't your thing.

Needless to say, I do not own anything related to The Hobbit, Lord of The Rings, any of J.R.R. Tolkien's works, or Peter Jackson's versions.

* * *

A Matter of Hobbits

The odd conversations with his old friend made the king curious. Rarely did Balin speak carelessly or with no clear purpose and Thorin kept a closer eye on the old dwarf. What he saw, however, made him even more curious. His adviser would often spend days away from Erebor, traveling north around the base of the mountain before returning as if he never left.

Thorin wanted to know what the old dwarf was up to, but knew the he would refuse to answer if he just asked. Instead, the king listened closely to the gossip of the court as his second best source of information.

"Did you see that new Ered Luin dwarf? He cuts his hair and his beard!"

"That last guild meeting was a complete waste of my time."

"Did you hear? Roeke asked his brother to bond with him."

"That hero of the Battle has been living to the north for years now. Built a whole house into the side of the mountain."

"I bet he has some human living with him."

"Can't be, the house is too short for a human."

"There's a young dwarf there too. Dark hair, strong arms, very attractive."

"I've heard he almost looks like the king."

"Could you imagine? The king hiding a secret child?"

Thorin remembered that Bofur had asked for land to the north. He had wanted to be in the open but still part of the mountain, maybe start a family if he was so lucky. The king wondered if his companion had actually found his heart's desire in another and jealousy surged in his belly.

He ached for the hobbit he had so crassly pushed away. It was not long before he wished for the chance to take back his words and would have begged for the change to even see the halfling again. But it was the crushing doubt that Bilbo would never accept his apology that kept him from seeking him out. If Bofur found someone, Thorin only hoped the simple miner made better choices than he had.

To his surprise, the rumor of the dark haired dwarf did not pass away with the seasons and promise of new scandals. If anything, the whispers grew louder and more detailed until the king could no longer ignore them. Curiosity ate at him until, combined with the pressure to produce an heir, Thorin simply had to get away from it all.

The lands surrounding the mountain had returned to the lush green of his memory and the walk in the open air cleared his head. Being without a home had forced him to accept the wide open and bright sunlight and now it was difficult sometimes to be surrounded by stone constantly. Silence broken only by birds and the rustle of the wind brought peace to his troubled heart, if only for a time.

When he reached the meadow Bofur had claimed as his own, he saw that the rumors were true. The house was much too low for a human and there were two pairs of boots beside the door. His eyes also fell on the sheer number of flowers surrounding the house, filling the windows, and even drooping right over the roof. If not for the mountain rising sharply behind the house, he would have thought a hobbit lived there.

Just as the king raised his hand to knock on the solid wooden door, it opened inward, revealing a young dwarf. They stared at each other in surprise. Thorin took in the blue-gray eyes and dark hair, instantly recognizing his own features. The only thing that was missing was his beard.

"It cannot be." The older dwarf stated, shaking his head.

Frerin was taken off guard both by the appearance of the unexpected visitor on their doorstep and his familiar face. The young dwarf had seen his own eyes in a smooth lake or looking glass enough times to recognize who they belonged to. "Thorin Oakenshield."

"Frerin? Who are you talking to?" Bilbo appeared when he had not heard the door shut and his son's voice. He stopped dead in his tracks upon seeing the imposing form of the King Under the Mountain at his door. There simply was not enough air in the hallway and his fears crashed around him before his knees unhinged and he fell to the floor.

Bilbo stretched in his bed as he slowly awoke. He had the most horrible dream that Thorin had shown up at the house he shared with Bofur. However when he opened his eyes, he was faced with two very concerned dwarves and he knew it had not been a dream. The hobbit saw his soul's mate, more gray than he remembered, and face unreadable.

"Forgive me, Thorin."

"There is nothing to forgive, little one. But could you ever forgive me for sending you away?" The king gently touched the halfling's hand, prepared to be rejected.

The tentative caress of his fingers was a balm for their long separation and Bilbo grasped the hand desperately. "You did what was right for your people."

"But you should always come first." Thorin brushed the curls out of the halfling's eyes and stroked his cheek.

"As king you can't think like that."

"As king, I can do what I like."

The dwarf hoped he had read the Shireling correctly as he leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. Bilbo needed the dwarf as much as he needed air, and he deepened the kiss. The feeling of large hands holding his body carefully yet firmly and the scratch of the beard brought back memories of a simpler time when they were only 14 trying to take back a mountain. When the pair did not break apart, Frerin quickly gave the couple privacy.

Bilbo emerged from the house in search of his son hours later. Thorin had been very persuasive in reassuring the hobbit that all was forgiven and that he would never be sent away again. It was only after the dwarf had laid claim to the halfling several times and fallen asleep that he was able to escape. Very gingerly, he hobbit sat next to Frerin some distance from the house.

The dwarf was turning his sword over in his hands, tracing the symbols on the hilt. "Why didn't you tell me Thorin was my father?" There was no accusation in his voice, only curiosity.

"I-I did not want to disappoint you if he was not so accepting."

"I thought it might have been Kili."

"What? Where did you get that idea?"

"You always spent so much time talking about Fili and Kili, and I know his hair was dark like mine." Frerin sighed slightly. "And Balin spoke about my father as if he were dead."

"We both have our share of insecurities, I suppose."

"Bilbo!" The shout was muffled by the walls of the house, but the hobbit was on his feet in an instant. Thorin came out of the house, looking wildly for the halfling before he spotted him with Frerin. "I thought you had gone."

"Only for a bit of fresh air." The Shireling let the king's arms wrap tightly around his small form.

"I never wish you to be out of my sight." Thorin looked hopefully at Frerin. "Come back to Erebor with me?"

"I would be honored." It was decided that the people of Erebor be damned. Thorin would have his mate and his son at his side.

When Bofur returned from trading in Dale, he was both shocked and overjoyed to see the king sitting before his hearth, and only a little sad. The time he had spent with the hobbit and Frerin had been the happiest of his years but he had always known the halfling would never be his. In truth, the simple miner had helped build some of the rumors hoping they would reach the king's ears and help them return to each other.

Tears filled the hobbit's large blue eyes as Bofur smiled sadly. "I wish you all the luck in the world. I really do."

Bilbo remembered the words spoken truthfully in a goblin cave and how close he had come to walking away from the company and Thorin. "I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you."

"Go and be happy. The king needs you by his side." The dwarf tried to step back from his friend, but Bilbo leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.

"Thank you for everything."

Bofur smiled all the way to his dimples. "Best not make Thorin jealous."

The king stepped forward when the hobbit went to stand by his son. "You brought my greatest treasure back to the mountain and kept them safe, if there is anything you would ask of me, I would grant it."

The simple dwarf seemed to consider for a moment. He had never been interested in the quest for the treasure or the honor. In truth, the only reason he had come was he was tired of looking after Bifur in the Blue Mountains and he was promised free beer. "Just promise me that you will never send him away again."

"Nothing could ever part me from Bilbo again. I would rather give up my kingdom."

"Then that is all I can ask." Bofur watched the mismatched family leave the isolated home and nodded, self satisfied. All was right in the world again.

Silence fell around the court as Thorin returned to the mountain leading two figures. No one had to ask who the short creature was as soon as they saw his bare feet. Whispers of legends and heroes fled into the deeper reaches of the mountain. What truly shocked the dwarves gathered in the mountain was the young dwarf mirroring the king's face and form.

A formal declaration of Frerin as his heir and Bilbo as consort sent a flurry of exclamations through the mountain and revealed more than a few sceptics. A faction of dwarves from the Iron Hills rejected the validity of the heir and demanded Dain be made next in line despite having his own throne. Thorin could not have cared less what a small group of dwarves thought when he had Bilbo within his arms again.

The king brought the halfling back to his rooms and embraced him tightly. As the years had passed, his desire to the smaller creature had never dimmed. He traced his lips over Bilbo's delicate ear and burned his pleasured moan into his mind.

"I need you."

"You have me." The Shireling ran his fingers through the long locks he had dreamed of touching again.

Buckles were undone and clothes discarded as they learned each others bodies again. Bilbo let his eyes slip closed as calloused hands brushed over his limbs to be followed by lips, beard tickling delightfully. Every nerve sung for the dwarf, his heart begging to be filled completely.

Thorin took every care to bring only pleasure to the halfling, ignoring his own need until Bilbo begged. There was nothing he could deny the halfling and it was bliss as he sunk into his warm body. The dwarf wanted to stay within his love until the mountain crumbled around them but he could not hold on as Bilbo whispered his name like a mantra.

For days they would only emerge from their rooms for food or the most important needs of the court. Days became weeks but their desires did not wane. The people of Erebor welcomed Frerin as heir and gave thanks for the smile the king wore. Life prospered and gold flowed freely.

Thorin woke to find the space next to him empty and cold. Panic flooded the dwarf and he bolted upright. "Bilbo?"

The hobbit appeared at the door, pale and sweaty. "Sorry."

"Are you well?" The king helped the halfling to sit on the bed and hovered.

"Don't fret, I'll be fine shortly." Bilbo smiled warmly at the dwarf and tugged playfully on one of his braids.

Every morning Thorin's concern grew. The hobbit was awake before him and returned looking ill and weak. He also slept longer in the afternoon and ate ravenously. Before many days had passed, the king insisted on an explanation.

"You said you would be better."

"I'm fine, Thorin."

"You are hardly fine when you can't bear to look at breakfast."

"Don't worry about me." Bilbo rubbed his stomach absentmindedly.

"But I do worry." The king gently touched the hobbit's cheek. "I would do anything for your health."

The halfling looked up shyly. "Then you might want to call for Lord Elrond."

"The elf?" Thorin's face darkened.

"Yes, only by his help was Frerin born so strong."

The king continued to frown and then he looked down at the halfling's hand resting over his belly. He eyes grew large in excitement. "You are?"

Bilbo nodded. "I think so."

Thorin smiled as he rarely had before. "Another child?" He sunk to his knees and pushed away the halfling's tunic to kiss his bare stomach.

No one could remember a king so happy on his throne as Thorin when the hobbit stood by his side, one hand resting on his swollen belly, the other supporting the small of his back. Even those who had doubted Frerin's parentage conceded upon seeing the halfling with child again. From then on, Erebor remained the crown jewel of the dwarves and the tale of how Thorin reclaimed their land was passed from generation to generation, the line of Durin unbroken.


End file.
